


Peace in Chaos

by kamikaze43v3r



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Canon Compliant, Drama, Fingering, Game Spoilers, Genichiro is awkward, Hurt/Comfort, I did not expect to be invested in this fic, Loyalty, M/M, Plot With Porn, Romance I guess, Versatile Pairing, War, bottom!Genichiro, bottom!Wolf, lord and servant dynamics, so is Wolf, top!Genichiro, top!Wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamikaze43v3r/pseuds/kamikaze43v3r
Summary: He remembers the day he was introduced to the young lord of the Ashina clan. They were about the same age when they first met.It's been years since then.Even when his master takes up heretical arts in the name of preserving Ashina, Wolf remains loyal. He doesn't hesitate in following his master's orders, until he sees the lord about to make an irreparable mistake.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned that there are some spoilers and references to the game in case you're not up to date.

He remembers the day he met his father. He had been collecting goods from bodies in the battlefield amongst the ravens. He hadn’t expected anything. A giant had approached him, with snow white hair and beard. A strong, muscular frame with large hands holding a well maintained blade. He didn't expect to meet a shinobi, nor did he expect to be picked up like a stray by an Owl and be named a Wolf.

He remembers the day he was introduced to the young lord of the Ashina clan. It had only been a couple years since his father took him in and bestowed him with knowledge and skills of the shinobi. He knew his father served a great lord, but he did not think he would meet the master so soon, and even more surprised that he would be presented to the master’s grandson.

Like him, the young man was adopted. Taken in by the clan patriarch Isshin Ashina, and believed to be the future leader of the clan. His potential was immense, it was clear as day, and even a stray like Wolf can see it. A dignified aura surrounded the future lord. Sharp features, sable black hair and hardened eyes despite having not seen past his teenage years. A leader and a general in the making.

“He will be your master,” his father had said. “His word is absolute, only second to your father.” 

Wolf knows the Iron Code by heart. He remembers having accepted it without a word, but that was because his opinion didn’t matter. Doesn’t still. He lives only to serve his master.

He was about the same age as the young lord when they first met. The other young man merely gave him a glance and ignored him altogether after the first meeting. It was fine. Whenever Wolf was not occupied with Lady Butterfly’s lessons or smuggling alcohol for the Red Ape, he would stand by the lord’s room and watch him. Both he and Owl knew he was not ready to be a real guard yet, but apparently it had been a request by the clan leader himself to have a shinobi the same age as the young lord to stand by his side. Wolf did not think much about it, only doing as he was told.

It has been many years since then.

Wolf remains a loyal shinobi to the clan, serving directly under the future clan leader Genichiro Ashina.

His lord is a straight laced man, with strict discipline, a drive and loyalty towards his country as deep as the ocean. Wolf has watched and observed the man over the years, both of them growing up together, yet still distant, with few words between them and little acknowledgement to the other’s presence. Genichiro is the lord and a respected leader. Wolf is a mere stray who became a shinobi and a hidden shadow, not meant to be noticed. 

Loyalty and pursuit of victory have been instilled in both of them, but even more so on the young Ashina lord. Growing up, he's not blind to the looks of admiration and expectation pinned onto the man. With his natural talent as a swordsman, Ashina expects him to be the next Isshin. Such an expectation doesn't come without a price. 

Wolf watches as he sees the man take drastic measures to gain more strength. Originally his lord was already quite intense in pursuing power, but it only amplified further when the Interior Ministry came into the picture. It became especially troubling when news spread of Isshin Ashina’s illness. With the burden of being the next leader of the clan, it is a given that they needed strength to fend off their invaders. 

His master turns to taking up heretical arts, involving himself with the astrayed Senpou Temple monks and chasing the foreign ways of his mentor from the Tomoe clan. It is a little concerning, the pace that his master is going after such blasphemous knowledge, but as a shinobi, he has no say. Wolf knows it is not his place so he remains quiet, only sticking close to guard him from assassins. He doesn’t utter a word even as his master is charred black from his mentor’s lightning or seek information on the Infested, staying put at the side and observes like the good hound he is supposed to be. All he needs to do is to protect his master with his life and carry out his orders. 

The lord had warned him not to interfere, and as the Iron Code dictates, his master’s word is absolute.

It’s only when his pursuit of power goes too far that Wolf intervenes. Genichiro Ashina had gone to meet the Divine Heir, knowing full well the extraordinary power this person possesses. The Divine Heir is a mere child, no older than twelve perhaps, and the sole survivor of an ancient clan. A young boy with a regal, almost otherwordly air who possesses a mind that is mature beyond his years. Genichiro wanted the Heir to take him into his immortality oath to gain the power of resurrection. Such power is already a curse, but the younger Ashina lord is determined to use it for battle, believing it could lead the clan to victory. The man asks the Heir repeatedly but is rejected each time. 

It soon becomes an almost desperate plea, turning into a demand and then into a threat. Eventually, Genichiro’s patience wears thin and the man takes hold of his sword with intent. 

Wolf had seen the glowing red in his lord’s eyes. A madness and anger that he knows to be lacking in humanity. A red that burns like the flames of war. He knows that the child is in danger; there is no mercy in those eyes, only desperation for what he desires. An urge inside him causes the Wolf to move. He knows he should not intervene. His master is absolute, but Wolf knows that what his master is doing is not right. The man has killed many, but only those who threatened Ashina. He has a strict code against harming the innocent. The master he's watched over the years would not harm a child. Perhaps it is guilt that he is feeling, that he should have been involved with his master more, to dissuade him from the temptations of the heretical ways. Whatever it is, the Wolf does not hesitate and gets in between the two as Genichiro swung his sword towards the Divine Heir.

It is a split second decision that costs him his arm. A stunning turn of events that made the young Heir let out a quiet cry of surprise upon the sudden sight of spurting blood and a dismembered limb. Pain jolts through his body, his arm, and the lack of limb stuns him. Yet the first thing he does is look to his master. 

“My lord, please stop… before you make another mistake,” is all Wolf manages to say before he collapses to the ground, losing blood fast from the stump. His hazy eyes stare up at his lord, whose expression changes from anger, to shock, and then to regret. The red in his eyes are gone, and that is enough for Wolf. 

The shinobi slips into unconsciousness.

When he wakes, he is in his room. Red Ape is sitting nearby, with his back towards him. He’s drinking sake from a gourd, possibly swiped it from Lord Isshin again. When Wolf attempts to move, he’s stopped by the pain that shoots from his left arm. He remembers what he lost, but when he turns to look, a prosthetic is in its place. It’s made of bone, wood, metal and twine. It looks slightly worn from age, but hasn’t seen much use. 

“The great doctor made that,” Red Ape says as he sighs after he takes another swig of his drink. “He’s always tinkering with it and likes to show it to me, so I learned how to maintain it eventually. Figured someone might need it.” Wolf is still bewildered and staring at the prosthetic, fascinated by how he can control each digit despite the lack of muscle. 

“Your old man is livid,” Red Ape adds. “You broke the Iron Code.” Wolf freezes and slowly clenches his prosthetic fist. He is aware of what he did, and knows he deserves whatever consequence his decision would bring. Losing his arm is nothing compared to the disgrace of his actions. The Red Ape slowly gets to his feet but leaves his gourd of wine on the floor. “You might need that.”

Wolf is left alone. He is still sore and light headed from blood loss. He doesn’t know how long he had been unconscious, and what of the fate of the Divine Heir. Perhaps what he did changed nothing, and that he had wasted his own life going against his master. He’s shamed his father with this, and he can almost imagine the disappointed comments from Lady Butterfly.  _ A naive, impulsive puppy _ , she would say. 

He’s summoned not long after he wakes, as expected. The Great Shinobi stands tall before the main hall of the Ashina lord’s chamber. Owl bears no expression aside the usual furrow of his brow. The giant doesn’t speak as he moves towards Wolf and eyes the prosthesis on his arm. “Lord Isshin summons you, boy. Remember your place.” His father is usually merciless when it comes to discipline and punishments, but he is calm at the moment. Wolf is a little bothered. 

His father walks away and disappears from sight, but the Wolf is sure that he is watching nearby. He can only go forth to meet the master, kneeling before the sliding doors. The doors slide  open but Wolf does not raise his head, awaiting orders.

“Ahh, the son of Owl, was it? And Genichiro’s shinobi. Raise your head,” Isshin Ashina speaks cordially. The shinobi does as ordered, eyes looking up to the master of the clan. The clan patriarch dons a white robe with ash grey hair and dull skin that has faded yet still apparent scars. Despite his advanced age and illness, the clan leader of Ashina is still spirited and charismatic. A noticeable bright red Tengu mask hangs on the wall behind him. 

A young woman is also present, in a dark kimono and a blank expression. She has a quiet beauty and charm to her, her dark eyes brimming with secrets and knowledge. He assumes her to be Emma, the great doctor Dogen’s daughter. She makes no move or speak aside from slightly bowing in greeting. Meanwhile, the elder man looks over the Wolf, eyes on his prosthetic arm. He nods in recognition. 

“Dogen’s mechanical arm, yes... And those eyes, still of a starving wolf, just as Owl said.” Isshin Ashina rubs at his bearded chin thoughtfully. “A one-armed Wolf… I like it! Which means… ‘Sekiro’. That is what I shall name you.”

Wolf - or  _ Sekiro _ , as he is named now, bows his head in acceptance. But there is yet to be word of punishment. The clan leader did not just call him here to name him, did he? As if having heard his thoughts, Isshin laughs, “Were you expecting punishment? You went against your master, my grandson. But, Sekiro, you did us all a favour. That pitiful child had been doing more than he should and lost his way. I could see in his eyes that he was taking in too much of the hatred of the battlefield. His love for Ashina is admirable, but sooner or later…”

The elder man’s words trail off as he stares out the window distantly. He doesn’t continue his sentence, shaking his head instead. “Now, Sekiro, I command you to continue your watch on Genichiro. You shinobi are the same, too serious. He is still your master, and your father may have instilled the Iron Code in you, but remember, Sekiro: Hesitation is defeat. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Sekiro replies promptly. He leaves as he’s dismissed, immediately returning to the side of his master who is in his chambers. Sekiro kneels by the sliding doors that are slightly open just a crack, wide enough only for one to peek in. The shinobi announces his arrival as greeting to his master.

“I am here, Lord Genichiro,” Sekiro announces and waits. He’s taken a glimpse of the young lord in the room. He’s lightly dressed, out of his usual armour and in a robe similar to what the elder Ashina had worn, with a dark red coat over his shoulders. His black hair is down, loose and brushing slightly past his shoulders. A handsome man who resembles Isshin with his dignified aura, despite that he is an adopted child. But it is clear that he lacks the stability and confidence that Isshin possesses. Genichiro has an air of slight hesitance to him at the moment, seated in seiza style with his sword laid neatly on the floor to his right. Eyes closed as if meditating. He makes no sign of acknowledgment to Sekiro’s words or presence. Sekiro waits.

“Fully recovered?” Genichiro finally speaks after a while.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Come in.”

Sekiro obliges, sliding open the door and enters. He remains on one knee, head lowered once more.

“Your arm,” Genichiro looks to Sekiro, fully viewing his shinobi for the first time. “I have heard that Dogen left some of his curiosities behind… Did Sir Red Ape give you that?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I see,” Genichiro says. Then, “I have heard that my grandfather named you. What did he call you?”

The Wolf knows that he is not the only shinobi that Genichiro calls on, especially for information, but it still pokes at him when he's not relied on. “...Sekiro.”

“Sekiro,” Genichiro repeats slowly. A momentary pause as the lord thinks to himself. The following was said quietly, almost hesitantly. “...Thank you.”

Sekiro is surprised by the gratitude, but accepts it. “Yes, my lord.”

Since then, the young Ashina lord has become warmer towards him. Acknowledging the shinobi’s presence more often, exchanging words too, even if they are few. It is quite a change that Sekiro has to get used to, and it seems as if the other man is having the same trouble as well, as though unsure if he is doing it right.

The Divine Heir sends Sekiro personally handmade rice balls as a gift for saving his life. The shinobi does not eat such luxurious food often, if ever, but it is sweet to his taste, and it warms his body. His master heard of the gift, but doesn’t speak of it. Neither does he say a word when the Divine Heir seeks the Wolf out to personally thank him, and the shinobi taught the young boy how to whistle in return. There is just a slight furrow to the lord’s brow that is deeper than usual. 

The name ‘Sekiro’ sticks, though it is only the clan patriarch who really calls him by that name. His father, who has let Sekiro’s mistake slide and deferring to Isshin’s decision continues to call him Wolf as he’s originally named him. It is the same with the Red Ape, who still calls on him for drinks and alcohol related mischief. Lady Butterfly continues to call him a puppy out of habit and endearment. 

His master, however, still avoids calling him anything else other than ‘shinobi’ aside from that one time. Sekiro does not care much for his name; he is still a Wolf, after all.

One evening, the young lord offers Sekiro a cup of sake. The Wolf stares at the man speechless and rather dumbfounded, unsure if he is really asking such a question. “Drink with me,” the man insists, leaving no option for refusal.

“...Yes my lord.” He takes a seat beside Genichiro who is dressed casually for the night. It is a cool evening with the breeze blowing into the lord's chambers and the night sky clear. It is a decent time for drinks. Sekiro takes a sip from the offered cup and lets out a quiet exhale as the smooth wine burns down his throat to his stomach. Its taste is bittersweet, even though Sekiro himself is not much of a drinker.

“How does it taste?” Genichiro asks.

“Good, my lord,” the shinobi replies automatically. His answers stop the conversation there, and both of them remain silent. It feels rather awkward and the Wolf, being socially inept, is unsure how to proceed with small talk. Neither of them are men of many words. They quietly sip at their sake while viewing the half moon in the sky.

“How have I been as your lord,” Genichiro suddenly asks. An odd question thrown at the Wolf, who hesitates to reply. He thinks on his words carefully, only so that he doesn't sound rude. 

“You are a master swordsman and you are extremely loyal to Ashina, my lord. You are… an exemplary lord,” Sekiro replies. He speaks the truth, though he knows it might not sound like it. Genichiro stares at him as he responds. Dark eyes fixed on the shinobi as if studying every inch of him while he answers.

“I have been blinded. Too obsessed in pursuit of glory and strength to protect Ashina,” the lord admits. “I fear I will be the cause of the clan’s fall.” He finally turns away to pour more wine into both their cups. “I have already made many mistakes, and I almost made an irreparable one.” 

“... As a shinobi, there is no difference between honor and victory, my lord,” Sekiro says. “As long as we abide by the Iron Code and fulfil our master’s wishes, perhaps taking that stance may not be a bad thing for my lord to follow if it brings success.”

The other man makes a slight grimace at the Wolf's words. But Genichiro doesn’t pursue the topic and instead changes to the prosthetic arm. “Your arm. I’d like to see it."

The shinobi holds out the prosthetic limb made of bone, wood, metal and twine. As it has seen more use in the Wolf's daily life, it has some dirt and blood on it, but still in almost pristine condition. Genichiro holds the arm by the wrist with one hand, the other brushing his thumb along the cold bone. His gestures are strangely gentle as both of them huddle rather close while the young lord studies the limb. At this distance, the shinobi can feel the heat of the other man. His larger, broader body looms slightly over him, but not in an intimidating manner like his father. 

“Has it been helpful?”

“Yes, my lord. Sir Red Ape has helped me maintain it, and passed me numerous tools for it that has aided in my missions,” Sekiro reports rather monotonously, but he is a little tense, the touch and heat of his master becoming quite distracting. Being this close, he can even catch the scent of his lord, musky and almost sour, thanks to the sake. 

“That is good. You’ve proven to be very skilled in your missions, Shinobi. I appreciate your loyalty and service,” Genichiro says. His hold on Sekiro’s prosthetic wrist becomes a firm grip as he holds the false hand. “Especially for that day. When you stopped me from killing the Divine Heir.”

“....”

Neither men moves as Genichiro holds Sekiro’s hand intimately. Slowly, the larger man leans down to kiss the palm of the prosthetic hand. Sekiro cannot see his face from that angle, but he feels the heat radiating off the man in waves. Has the sake affected him?

“My lord -” the Wolf begins to say, but is interrupted by warm lips closing over his mouth. A slick, heated tongue slip into his mouth and the bitter taste of rice wine fills his taste buds. Genichiro is firm in his actions, no hesitation at all as he presses himself against the smaller man, his kisses hard and hungry, as if he’s desperate to have more of Sekiro’s taste. The hand on his prosthetic limb moves up to hold the stump end, caressing the edge of the prosthetic, caressing the remaining arm.

The Wolf manages to pull away but does not widen their distance. He looks to his master’s eyes to see both uncertainty and want. Genichiro’s expression twists as if he’s torn by his actions. The man lowers his head onto Sekiro’s shoulder who realizes that the man’s hands are still on him. He can feel the sweat on the lord’s palms and the very minute trembling as he holds onto him.

“Shinobi,” he hears Genichiro say, voice a little muffled against the Wolf’s layered clothing. “Will you allow me this… To touch you, to show you my appreciation, my regret, and… express my apology this way?”

The Wolf takes a moment to respond. His prosthetic arm wraps loosely around his master and places the hand on the back of Genichiro’s head. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, my lord. Though I think you should get someone more… suitable for your desires.”

“No,” the lord replies curtly. He pulls away to face Sekiro, the gaze in his eyes intense. “This is not an action done by a drunkard, Shinobi. Don’t underestimate me.”

The Wolf remains quiet. Both stare at each other, unsure how to proceed. When Genichiro’s uncharacteristically low confidence takes over and he finally decides to pull away, the bone fingers of Sekiro’s prosthetic tug at the lord's sleeve.

“...I do not mind, my lord,” the shinobi says, slow and deliberate. The Wolf  lowers his gaze and head as he says so, the lower half of his face hidden by the scarf around his neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Ape refers to the Sculptor, who was known as Sekijo (one-armed Orangutan). Since orangutan sounds weird in Japanese context (also, did they have orangutans in Japan back then?? how would they name him that??) So I just call him Red Ape here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the tags.

Sekiro groans as the single digit inside him twists and probes. It is slick with oil, leaving an odd sensation but it helps that his master is going slow. On all fours with his hips raised upwards, Sekiro has never been in such an embarrassing position. It was initially painful but it soon dulls to an ache. The finger eases in and out of him, letting the man get used to the intrusion before Genichiro adds another slick finger to stretch him. He takes in a breath with a sharp hiss, reminding Genichiro to be gentle. The larger man hovers over his back, his other hand massaging the back of the Wolf’s waist. 

His master is frustratingly gentle, a side of the man which Sekiro has rarely seen, if ever, and it does not help with the Wolf’s conflicted feelings in the situation. He wonders why Genichiro would want to do this, with  _ him _ , of all people. 

A third finger enters him and the Wolf lets out a strangled cry. His back arches and his hips twitch, but Genichiro presses his hips down, burying his nose in Sekiro’s neck, lips brushing over the bared skin of the shinobi’s back.

“My lord…” Genichiro’s free hand reaches around to cup Sekiro’s chin, turning the man around for another fierce kiss. It’s desperate in the way the young lord bites and sucks at the Wolf’s tongue. Sekiro can feel the larger man’s length pressing against his thigh.

“Sekiro,” Genichiro moans into the Wolf’s mouth. Another kiss and the man pulls away, tugging off his robes and sash and dropping them to the floor. Sekiro’s own clothing has already been tossed aside, chainmail and even prosthetic arm placed to the corner of the room. Genichiro presses up against the Wolf’s back.

The shinobi can feel the length digging into his back, wet and slick with oil and sliding between his cheeks. It’s hot and throbbing, and though Sekiro is not one to divulge in such desires, he feels himself feeling hot and wanting. His lord finally removes his fingers, leaving the shinobi raw and empty. He spreads his legs wider for the larger man to get a better position, who kisses his shoulder in thanks and slides easily into him with a soft grunt.

The Wolf bites down on his real arm to muffle the pained moan while the stump of his left arm digs into the sheets. He hears Genichiro’s quiet moaning in his ear and the man doesn’t waste time in moving his hips even though the shinobi hadn’t had time to adjust. Sekiro powers through, biting harder on his arm that he can taste blood. The lord takes it thankfully slow, however, sliding his cock in and out of Sekiro’s tight, wet hole, lost in the pleasurable heat of the smaller man’s body.

Genichiro’s thrust slowly begin to pick up the pace and force. His hips slam into Sekiro hard, pressing his entire length inside and reaching deep enough to make the shinobi’s toes curl. The Wolf grits his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as his hole is filled repeatedly. He feels Genichiro’s hands roam over his scar marked body, over old scars and new, tracing the contours of his muscles before trailing down to his navel and grabbing his cock. The shinobi’s length is half-hard, the pain starting to mix and blur into arousal at the sensation of being filled and his prostate being prodded. The tip glistens with a pearl of precum, which Genichiro rubs at and spreads over the man’s length.

“My lord - Gen...ichiro,” the Wolf gasps. His clenched fist grab at the futon under them as Genichiro raises and angles his hips to penetrate deeper. “Gods…”

“My loyal Wolf,” Genichiro drawls in between breathy moans. “ _ Sekiro _ .” The hand around Sekiro’s cock speeds up in time with the man’s thrusts. Sekiro is hard and dripping, his insides tightening around the young lord’s length inside him, squeezing as pleasure builds up.

“My lord, I’m… ah-!” The Wolf nearly howls. He comes hard into his master’s fist and the futon beneath them, entire body curling forward and twitching in orgasm. The lord behind him grunts as the tightness proves too much, pushing him to release. The Wolf hisses as he feels teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder, The sharp sting of pain followed by the slow drip of viscous liquid. He knows he’s bleeding, but the high of his orgasm is enough to keep him dazed. The scent of familiar iron only proves to be more arousing.

The sounds of their panting is muffled and mixed. Genichiro noses into Sekiro’s neck much like a hound. The irony is not lost on Wolf.

“Thank you,” he hears Genichiro whisper to him again. Sekiro closes his eyes with a tired sigh, unsure what his master is really thanking him for.

When morning comes, Sekiro realizes he’d fallen asleep without meaning to. He quickly sits up, the first feeling he gets is the soreness of his body. The next, he realizes, is that he is alone in his master’s futon. The embarrassment he gets overwhelms him and the man promptly gets dressed, ignoring the ache on his shoulder and waist.

He returns to his own room, a small corner that has nothing more than a sleeping mat and a candle stand. Under the mat is a hidden compartment for his prosthetic tools and a charm gifted to him by the Divine Heir. There is little else. Sekiro collects his thoughts as he gives a quick clean up and check on his prosthetic arm before he sets off for his duties. He seeks out his master who is training at the reservoir.

The Wolf is surprised to see that there are more people present for his master's self training. Isshin Ashina, the Red Ape, and the female doctor Emma. The former two are drinking. Sekiro drops in on them, landing on a thick branch of the Sakura tree behind them. 

“Oh, Sekiro, good to see you're here.” The Wolf did not bother to hide his presence, but he still feels a little bothered that the elder caught his arrival. “We were missing you.”

The drinking elders appear more amused than usual, while the female doctor remains quiet. The ends of her mouth curve up just a little, however, as she tops up the cups with sake while the elders watch the younger Ashina lord carry out his training.

The same lord’s steps falter ever so slightly at his grandfather's sentence but proceeds as if he hadn't heard. From where he is, the man's back is facing all of them. Sekiro isn't sure what they are talking about.

“... Is there a task you have for me, my lord?” the shinobi asks rather apprehensively. While Genichiro is his master, the clan leader also takes priority.

“Mm, yes… A task perfect for a starving wolf: Rat extermination,” Isshin hums. He takes a quick sip of sake and glances to the Red Ape, who hands Sekiro a piece of paper. On it, there are points of descriptions of short, wooden hatted men. Apparently they are spies of the Ministry. 

“There are some seen at the castle gates. You know what to do,” the Red Ape says with his usual drawl. Sekiro doesn't move immediately. He looks to his direct master, the younger Ashina lord instead. “Huh, at least you remember who's your master now.”

The Wolf doesn't respond to the provocation but waits for his master's response. Finally, Genichiro stops his training and turns slightly, speaking only one word. “Go.”

“...Yes, my lord.” And Sekiro goes.

It's easy enough to find these ‘rats’. They're grotesquely shaped, short statured men who stick out like a sore thumb, but they know where to hide so as not to be found easily. Sekiro kills enough of them and loots their bodies, both as trophies and for later use. It's also partially out of habit from his youth.

He returns when it's almost evening, the sky turning red as the sun sets on Ashina Castle. Sekiro goes to his master first to report. He is covered in blood and traces of poison dust, but it's a common appearance that he forgets about it. Genichiro looks him over with a blank expression and merely nods. He doesn't say anything, nor does he look at Sekiro longer than a few seconds.

The Wolf is dismissed and so he reports his kills to Isshin. The clan patriarch is very pleased with his results, laughing boisterously. “Very good! I knew you had talent, boy. As a gift, take these and let them aid you further in your battles,” the elder man hands Sekiro a book of sword arts. Specifically, the Ashina sword arts. “You should use them and learn it with that pitiful grandchild of mine.”

Isshin laughs again and doesn't allow a chance for the Wolf to retort, immediately dismissing him. The shinobi withdraws with the book in hand, flipping through it as he returns to his master's side. It is indeed the text containing sword techniques from the Ashina clan. It is an invaluable gift. 

Life continues as it has. The Ministry sends troops and shinobi, but they have yet to make their move. They are biding their time, and the anxiety through all of Ashina is high and rising.

Genichiro has not spoken to Sekiro much since that night. The shinobi knows the man is avoiding him and he understands. There is not much he can do anyway. The man is his master, and he will remain loyal to him.

Sekiro reads the text that was gifted to him by Isshin. He practices the sword arts in his free time, out of view from prying eyes and potential gossips. The arts are surprisingly easy to follow, but they take a lot of inner strength to execute properly. Discipline and determination is the core of the techniques. As Isshin had said: hesitation means defeat.

“Did my grandfather give you the book of Ashina sword arts?” Genichiro asks one day. Sekiro blinks at him, forgetting to answer. He didn't expect the man to know, not that he shouldn't. 

“...Yes, my lord,” he quickly says. His master frowns thoughtfully. 

“Why did he?”

“As a reward for the… ‘rat’ extermination.”

Genichiro thinks over it and remembers that time. “Did he tell you why he gave that particular book to you?”

“No, my lord. Only to ‘aid me further in battle’.”

Genichiro sighs, but the Wolf doesn't know what he is sighing at. He doesn't ask. The man paces about before he continues his apparent interrogation. “Have you tried executing any of them?”

Sekiro hesitates, but cannot lie. “... Some, my lord.”

“Show me.”

“...?” Sekiro looks to his master with a puzzled look. Genichiro clarifies himself as he picks up his sword and slips it into his sash. 

“Spar with me.”

He never imagined he would be practicing sword arts with his master. Ashina sword arts with the grandchild of the arts’ creator, even. The sword style is quick, sleek and delivers fast blows that hit hard. Even the basics of sword combat are used to overpower their enemies. Sekiro finds that he likes this sword art. Having watched his master practice it and practicing it himself is one thing. Sparring together with the same sword style is a different experience altogether. It is like a conversation between comrades whenever their blades cross, almost like a dance, and also strangely intimate in the way that all focus is on each other. With his lord, it is even more apparent with his intense gaze and focused strength placed in his sword.

Genichiro is a genius in battle, that Sekiro knows. The man is quick thinking, and with his larger frame, he has the advantage of strength. He is without his bow at the moment, but that doesn’t detract from his battle prowess. His sweeps and thrusts are a force to reckon with, and his skill in aikido is put to use at opportune moments.

For Sekiro, he has the lead in agility and speed. His master may be fast, but the Wolf can be faster. With his own sword style combined with the Ashina sword arts, he has more techniques to rely on. Even so, his lord shows the peak of the Ashina swordsmanship, and easily takes the shinobi down with a flurry of attacks and a grab that stuns Sekiro as he is thrown to the ground. 

“...” Sekiro grunts as he gets back to his feet. Genichiro sheaths his sword.

“It usually takes years to master the Ashina sword. You.. have done well,” Genichiro tells him. Sekiro notices the slight curve to the lord’s lips and feels a foreign heat wash over him that even his ears are tingling.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“...My grandfather told me that he gave you the book,” the younger Ashina says. “But he didn’t tell me why either. I suspect he wanted us to cross swords.”

“Why would he want that?” the Wolf asks. The lord seems just as clueless and shakes his head.

“I don’t understand my grandfather sometimes. But I can see that he is… quite fond of you.”

This time it’s Sekiro who is puzzled. He is genuinely curious why someone would take interest in him. It seems he’s caught the eye of the Ashina leaders for some reason. He’s not sure if it is a good thing.

“He’s not the only one who is fond of you,” Genichiro continues. He does not avoid Sekiro’s gaze. ““The Divine Heir seems quite taken with you. Though, I do not blame the child since you saved his life.”

“...I only did it out of my concern for you, my lord,” the Wolf replies. “I… did not want you to go even further away from the right path.” His lord freezes at his response, but he quickly turns away as if to hide it.

“Is that so. Then… thank you. Again,” Genichiro says. The man does not smile. “Come, let us return. It is almost time for dinner.”

They continue this routine of sword training every few days. It is usually during dusk after Sekiro’s missions and the Ashina lord’s meetings and patrol of the army. Sekiro polishes his technique during his missions and readies to use them for practice with his master. Genichiro would demonstrate the moves to him and correct his stances, and they practice the techniques on each other. Sometimes he will get pointers from the lord, who would guide him patiently. Within weeks, Sekiro has caught on to the younger Ashina lord’s attack pattern, and the shinobi makes use of the knowledge to tweak his speed, time his dodges and plan his strikes. He even copies Genichiro’s throws, grabbing the man by the front, tripping him over with his leg and throwing him onto his back.

Genichiro grunts as his back hits the ground. He looks up at the shinobi with an impressed expression. It is almost a smile. Sekiro offers him his right hand. Genichiro takes it, and the grip on his real hand is firm and warm. 

“You’re more adaptive than I expected, Shinobi.”

“Thanks to you my lord. There is also benefit in observing.”

“Merely observing over a short period of time wouldn’t grant you that kind of pinpoint accuracy. Are you saying you have been observing me all this time?”

“Yes, my lord. Since we first met.”

“...” a strange look flashes over Genichiro’s face. He has been more expressive lately, but the Wolf does not mention it. He feels like the man would be more self-conscious about it and put a stop to it. He would rather see the man’s emotions on his face. “Let’s do another round,” the younger lord says instead.

Their next spar ends with another win for Sekiro. Another win in the next round, and then another. Each round ends with the Wolf using the lord’s signature throw to the floor and pinning him down. The man would not go down without that particular throw. But Genichiro is quite clearly distracted as his eyes are always looking to where their bodies are in contact. Sekiro has the larger man pinned under his weight with his thighs straddled over his body and .arm against the man’s neck. His blade is pointed to Genichiro’s gut but it doesn’t seem to have been noticed by the other man.

The Wolf’s eyes focus in on the disheveled appearance of the man beneath him. Black hair splayed out, beads of sweat on his face trailing along his face and down the line of his neck. His chest heaves up and down from their sparring, with Sekiro’s prosthetic clenched fist still gripping on the front of Genichiro’s robes. The smell of musk and sweat between them puts the Wolf in a momentary daze. The shinobi pulls away and straightens his clothes. 

“I think we should stop for now, my lord. ...You don’t appear well,” the Wolf says. Genichiro sits up, coming out of his daze as well though his eyes linger on Sekiro much longer than what would be polite. He takes some time to get to his feet, sheathing his sword again, his movements uncertain. He turns away from the Wolf.

“...Yes, you’re right. Dismissed.”

Sekiro escapes from the training hall faster than he intended.


	3. Chapter 3

Another mission has Sekiro sent away from his master. Although it is a blasphemous thought, he is a little grateful that he does not see the lord for a time. He’s found himself looking at the man far too much. Too much to the point of distraction, and it’s hampering in his duties. Red Ape would flick at his forehead and chide him. Lady Butterfly, while they no longer have lessons together, still mentor him once in a while, and whenever she finds him missing his focus, she would make sure to give him a well deserved thrashing.

The Wolf has been feeling the aches from his terrible punishments for weeks. It doesn’t help that talk of a siege has become more often, and some residents have already fled. Sekiro’s current mission is related to the siege. Already having sent out the message to be delivered to their neighbouring ally, Sekiro is well on his way back.

He comes across a lone shadow - a shinobi, clad in black and purple. A Ministry agent.

“Ho… so you’re the wolf of that promising Ashina,” the shinobi says. Despite his covered face, Sekiro can hear his smile. The agent draws his blade, his posture full of confidence. “Even if you send for help, Ashina is finished.”

“...” The Wolf does not respond, only drawing his sword and taking up a stance.

“I heard that you are a favoured pet. Maybe killing you will be the final blow that Ashina needs to collapse,” the shinobi continues mockingly. Sekiro doesn’t humor the other, immediately on the attack. He has no time to waste. 

It is a tough fight, especially with the opponent being highly skilled in poisons. It would have been a bad fight if the Wolf wasn't well prepared. Still, it takes Sekiro more time and strength than expected to finally put down his opponent, but the shinobi’s words linger in his mind. The whole war has had a bad feeling to it for a while. Especially with Lord Isshin’s illness, the gloom over Ashina only forebears a dark future. The news he brings from his mission has made it even bleaker. 

The Wolf doesn’t linger around, promptly returning to the castle. 

When he returns, his master is at the top castle lookout. The man is fond of this area, where one is able to see over the entire castle grounds. Sometimes, he and Sekiro would do some training here as well. The shinobi drops in from the side roof, making his arrival known. Genichiro turns to him with an expecting look.

“The Nikaido and Ishikawa are keen, but they may not be able to reach us in time,” the Wolf reports, bowing his head. 

“Is that so,” the young lord replies expressionlessly. 

The man steps over to the side of the area, looking over the tower where Isshin Ashina’s chambers are. “If I were as strong as my grandfather…” He turns around to face the Wolf, who can only remain quiet and speculate what his master is thinking. 

But he doesn't expect the following words, “Fight me.”

“My lord?” Sekiro senses killing intent, his hand immediately reaching for his sword. 

“Duel me, and prove to me that you are worthy of fighting for the clan,” Genichiro says. It is clear that he is not fooling around. The man has already drawn his sword and the killing intent from his master is palpable. The Wolf does not know why his lord has suddenly chosen for this but can only oblige. He knows the man is serious, and if he were to not take it seriously, the man would not hesitate to cut him down.

With each clash of their swords, Sekiro sees the familiar fire in Genichiro’s eyes. A bright red, like blood and blazing fires, a concentration of hate and desperation. His lord is not in the right state of mind, especially with the siege of a powerful force looming over them. He feels the sorrow and anger in the sparks of striking metal and knows that his master is suffering with the burden of the entire clan upon his shoulders.

Sekiro makes use of Genichiro’s distracted mind against him, throwing out a firecracker to momentarily stun him. As taught by the man himself, the Wolf grabs the man into a throw, slamming him down onto his back and knocking his sword away. He keeps the man down underneath him, their positions reminding him of their last spar session which they hadn’t continued since then.

“Damn you!” Genichiro growls through gritted teeth, trying to fight back by grabbing the front of Sekiro’s robes as well. But he doesn’t move, only breathing heavily out of anger.

“Lord Genichiro,” the Wolf calls him, calm and grounding as he holds the hand on his front with his prosthetic. But the red in the lord’s eyes doesn’t fade. The shinobi leans down, stealing the other’s breath with a sudden kiss.

“...!” Genichiro’s lips part in surprise. The Wolf takes that chance to deepen the kiss, exploring the man’s mouth with his tongue, sliding it over Genichiro’s in a slow and measured manner. The shinobi feels the man’s heaving chest slow and pulls away. No more red eyes, just dark eyes widened in surprise.

“You..” 

“...” Both men stare at each other for a good moment before their lips meet again. Which of the two who initiated the kiss didn’t matter, it’s clear that both of them wanted it. Genichiro pulls at Sekiro’s robes as his hands roam over the smaller man. The Wolf is as impatient, though he struggles a little with all the layers on the other. He rips off the man’s mantle and begins work on his helmet and the armour over his torso.

Sekiro pulls his master’s hair free from its neat ponytail, both flesh and prosthetic fingers tangling themselves in them as he keeps the man close to him, their mouths barely apart. Both of them needed this, even the Wolf himself. He pulls away from the kiss momentarily to look at the larger man under his body, whose figure usually stands tall, the epitome of Ashina’s possible future. Genichiro is tall and large, and would usually overwhelm him, but this time, underneath the Wolf’s lesser frame, the man appears to have shrunk, small and vulnerable. Even like this, the Wolf wanted him. He doesn’t hold back this time, resuming their kisses, licking into the man’s mouth and sucking at his lord’s tongue.

Genichiro moans and presses back into Sekiro. His body is flush and heated, clearly affected by Wolf’s mouth. He murmurs soft words against the kisses about how he wanted this, his pace slowing down just a little to remove most of Sekiro’s clothes. His eyes rake over Sekiro’s smaller body, his calloused hand running over the lithe form. “I want you,” he breathes, eyes flicking up to meet the Wolf’s gaze as he lands his hand over the shinobi’s crotch.

The move sends an excited jolt through the Wolf, who immediately undresses the man completely, kissing and biting at the body beneath him. He holds the man down while he lays his mouth over Genichiro, sucking and licking over scarred skin, slick tongue teasing nipples and tracing along the muscles of his stomach down to his navel. 

“Shinobi…” Genichiro moans, sitting up on his elbows, watching as the smaller man goes down on him. Sekiro pushes the man’s legs apart, his mouth on the shaft of the man’s half-hard member. He drags his tongue along the length, taking the tip into his mouth and sucks. His prosthetic hand caresses over Genichiro’s inner thigh while his real hand moves over to cup at the man’s balls, massaging and occasionally teasing his master’s entrance with his fingers. “Ngh-... Shinobi - Sekiro.”

The larger man restrains himself from pushing the Wolf’s head down to take more of him. His toes curl as pleasure makes his hips buck up into the warm heat of Sekiro’s mouth. “Gods,” the lord moans. His face is a mess of sweat, his long hair plastered to his face. It’s a sight so unbecoming of the usually composed lord that Sekiro takes as much of Genichiro’s cock in his mouth and sucks harder.

It earns him a strangled cry, a trembling hand gripping Sekiro’s head, fingers digging into his hair. The shinobi slicks a finger with saliva, making sure it is thoroughly wet before he pushes the digit in Genichiro. He fingers and stretches the man while he continues to use his mouth, slurping and sucking on the man’s fully hard length.

“Sekiro, hurry,” Genichiro’s rough voice stirs something in the shinobi, who promptly proceeds to stretch him with more fingers. He doesn’t wish to hurt his master, though it’s clear the man is impatient, his tight passage squeezing and relaxing around his digits enticingly. The lord pulls him up for hungry kisses, moaning the man’s name over and over into his mouth while he fingers him. Sekiro can feel the man’s cock drip against his skin. “Hurry.”

“...Yes, my lord,” the Wolf replies, his words immediately swallowed by another of Genichiro’s hungry kisses. 

When he enters, Sekiro could not hold back the low moan that escapes from his throat. His master is tight, almost painfully so, but he breathes and relaxes, slowly opening up to welcome him in. The Wolf can still feel the man’s hard length prodding into his stomach, precum soiling his torso.

“Gods, that’s good,” Genichiro groans huskily, his whole body curling into the smaller shinobi, limbs wrapped around the him. 

“My lord -” Sekiro groans. “Genichiro, may I?”

The man doesn’t respond, his eyes a little glossed over. Eventually he nods, and Sekiro moves, thrusting his hips at a steady pace. He grinds into the man’s hips each time he thrusts in, holding the lord by his ass and waist to a proper angle where he can reach in deeper. With how much the man wants it, Sekiro wants to please the man, fill him up and take his mind off the burdens of the world.

Neither cared that they are out in the open, not in the private chambers of the lord. Anyone can climb the stairs and access the lookout; the only solace is that there is little reason for anyone to, but if one were to look for Genichiro, they would come to the lookout. And as the young lord, he is often sought out.

But it doesn’t matter to either of them right now, only pleasure and the hot warmth of each other’s bodies.

When they come, it’s with muffled moans and arched backs. Genichiro’s toes curl and his nails dig into Sekiro’s back. The Wolf welcomes the pain.

They are not done yet. Needing somewhere more private, the shinobi is half-dragged into the lord’s chambers where they had their first night together. The lord is demanding and relentless, straddling his shinobi and reciprocating Sekiro’s earlier service with his own, taking the smaller man’s cock deep in his throat and moaning hungrily. His tongue is snake-like and skilled, curling around his shinobi’s hard member, lapping up his taste with unrestrained fervour.

As if they are making up for the times they’ve avoided each other, the two of them indulged in their desires. Genichiro takes the Wolf’s length from behind, pressing his head into the floor as he curves his back, hips raised and on his knees. The Wolf follows every moan, whisper and command that slurs out of the lord’s kiss-bitten lips. The shinobi makes sure to commit each sound, each movement and tremble of his body, and the erotic, gorgeous sight of his master’s writhing body to memory.

When the lord is finally satiated, Genichiro drifts off into sleep, his eyes lingering on Sekiro’s face with a solemn expression. The shinobi stares back, watching him as the man closes his eyes and he listens to his lord’s breathing.

It’s a strangely soothing sound, and he finds that it helps to alleviate the worries of the incoming battle that is sure to come. Just a little. 

But perhaps, he had been too optimistic.

The Ministry invades at an inopportune moment. A number of the Ministry’s shinobi had infiltrated the castle and broke down the walls, allowing the enemy troops in. Isshin Ashina’s illness had worsened and the man was on his last days. Emma remains by the elder patriarch’s side as he takes his last breath. Genichiro Ashina is at the castle lookout, watching as the burning buildings collapse. 

Sekiro had been sent away to check on the Divine Heir. The boy remains firm in his decision to deny Genichiro, or anyone, the power of the Divine Dragon blood. As an act of generosity the Heir is allowed to escape and Sekiro was granted the opportunity to send him off.

The Wolf, however was not keen on the mission. While he is rather attached to the young man, he is more concerned with the state of the castle and his master. But following the Code, Sekiro proceeds to follow his orders, vowing to return as soon as possible. Genichiro had smiled at him then, a wide smile that looked more sorrowful than relieved. The image sticks to Sekiro’s thoughts as he traverses through the estate with the boy in tow.

The shinobi cuts down the enemy troops in his way, making sure that the Divine Heir is not spotted. While the boy is a clan secret, who knows whether the information of his power has been spread.

“Come, Lord Kuro,” Sekiro calls once the coast is clear. Bodies of the Ministry’s infantry are littered across the ground. They have only managed to reach the back of the castle. The enemy has already reached this far, and the chaotic sounds of clashing swords, roaring fires and battle screams fill the air. The Divine Heir follows the Wolf closely. He is surprisingly calm despite the blood and death around them.

They have some time before they can reach the point where a couple of elites and shinobi are waiting on them who will take up Sekiro’s task of escorting the Divine Heir to the next safest area. But with the speed that the invasion is proceeding, the Ministry had showcased their high firepower, which is worrying. While the Wolf has faith in the army and troops of the Ashina, Sekiro still itches to be back by his master’s side.

Lady Butterfly had fallen along with his father, and the Red Ape has gone to join the battle, but they have not heard back from him and they can only assume the worst. It feels as if Wolf is the only one left, and the thought of it is more intimidating than he realizes. He has always believed he would be fine alone as he is usually by himself, but the thought of  _ really _ being alone, scares him. And if he were to lose his master...

Kuro seems to notice his restlessness in his heart even as the shinobi leads them forward. The young man tugs at the Wolf’s sleeve.

“I would not worry, Wolf. I am sure Lord Genichiro will survive. He is a strong man worthy of the Ashina name,” the Divine Heir says. The firmness in the boy’s voice is unexpectedly reassuring for Sekiro, who nods in response. He is grateful for the boy’s presence. He only has to get him to safety, and he will be able to return to his lord.

However, the gods do not seem to favour him as the way to the meeting point in the fields behind the reservoir awaits an ambush. An ogre stands in his way, as with a company of soldiers with one of them wielding a fire canon. The situation is dire and time is short, but he makes use of all his items to ensure he is fully prepared for the upcoming battle and hides the Divine Heir away. Switching his prosthetic to the proper tool for the coming fight, the Wolf jumps straight into the fray.

It is a much harder fight than he hoped it would be. Thankfully having taken out the lesser soldiers via stealth made the entire battle easier, but he was sure the ogre had broken one of his bones somewhere. With the medicinal gourd Emma had given him, he managed to keep himself together, but it still leaves him out of breath. 

Kuro comes out of hiding and to his side, pulling the shinobi up. The man is bloodied and rather battered, but still able. The ogre is dead and the path is clear. They can get to the meeting point without any trouble now. The Divine Heir helps to hold up the shinobi for a moment before he gets his bearings. After another drink from the gourd, the Wolf can go on with the mission. They are close.

“We are almost there, Lord Kuro,” Sekiro says as they proceed down the empty dam. He takes out the key for the locked passage as given to him by the lord and unlocks it. Just another few minutes and they will reach the bridge by the fields.

“Yes, I am thankful for your protection, Wolf,” the boy says. “Once I am with the guards, you should go back to Lord Genichiro. You do not have to worry about me.”

“I plan to,” the shinobi replies. As they proceed through the passage, light shines in from the opening at the other end. The air is cleaner, untouched by the bloody battles on the other side. He can smell the fresh grass. It smells like nostalgia and freedom, but it has become foreign to him. At least, he knows the boy will be safe.

Thankfully, there are no ambushes waiting for them this time. Sekiro has made sure to check their surroundings before whistling the boy over. They meet with the lone elite who is waiting by the side of the bridge as promised. 

“You must be Sir Wolf. Lord Genichiro has told us about you,” the elite greets. He is a fairly older man, perhaps a veteran. 

“Yes. Please, take the Divine Heir to safety,” the Wolf tells the man. It is almost a plea. He is so tired. The elite nods with a grim expression as he looks over the state of the shinobi, covered in freshly healed wounds and blood. Sekiro wastes no time and turns to his charge. “Lord Kuro. This is goodbye.”

“Yes. But only for now,” the Divine Heir promises and smiles. Sekiro would return the smile if he could.

“If.. . you are in trouble. Remember the reed whistle,” the Wolf reminds him.

“I know. Now go. Return to Lord Genichiro!”

The shinobi does not need to be told twice. He is gone before the boy is done speaking.

Sekiro backtracks his way to the castle. His inventory stock is low, but there are still many enemies pillaging the castle grounds. He tries to avoid needless battles, even if that means ignoring the deaths of the remaining Ashina soldiers. There is no time to think about anything else, especially when he can see the flames reaching higher up the castle. The shinobi hurries to the top where he knows his master will be.

When he grapples his way to the lookout, the clouds over the castle lookout are a heavy grey. The wind howls as lightning flashes across the sky. Sekiro recognises it to be one of his master’s skills, the Lightning of Tomoe. That means he has been cornered into desperation. The shinobi quickens his pace, grappling up to the roof to find the sight of his master battling against three Ministry generals. The floor is littered with bodies of the dual wielding swordsmen and slick with blood. His lord has stripped already himself of his armour, only baring his scarred body that bears the burnt proof of his mentor’s teachings. Fresh scars cover the surface, and Sekiro spots a couple of stab wounds in his abdomen. 

His master may be the grandchild of Isshin Ashina, but he does not possess the monstrous power of the patriarch. He is only human. Sekiro equips his axe tool to his prosthetic and swings the heavy blade over the back of one of the generals. The unfortunate target crumbles to the ground with a sickening crack of bone and the splattering rush of blood.

“...Sekiro!” Genichiro’s eyes widens at the arrival of his shinobi.

“I have come for you, my lord,” Sekiro says to his master. Both their gazes meet, a silent conversation between them.

The remaining generals do not miss the opportunity of their momentary pause to rush towards them with an attack. Both lord and shinobi cut down their enemies with renewed strength, as if seeing the other has invigorated them. But their vigor doesn’t keep the incoming fires away. It is clear that the castle is done for, and unfortunately, it is the same for the Ashina clan.

Sekiro wants to bring his master away. “My lord, we should…”

“For the sake of Ashina,” Genichiro suddenly cuts in. His voice is calm. “I looked for so many ways to gain strength. To reach a power that is level with my grandfather. I trained hard every single day, so as to bring the clan back to glory.” The man looks around and over to the castle grounds. Most of the buildings are charred and some have even collapsed. It is silent and ironically peaceful aside from the soft crackling and hums of the flames. The voices of the Ashina warriors have already died out. It is a heartbreaking sight. “All of it for naught.”

“You are part of Ashina, my lord,” the Wolf says as he steps closer to his master. “As long as you are alive… so is Ashina.”

Genichiro turns to him, face expressionless. The light and heat from the fires are hot enough to burn their clothes despite their reasonable distance. It is best to leave now, but the Ashina lord doesn’t seem to be bothered by the flames nor does he seem to have any plans for anything. If his master wishes to die along with his clan… would the Wolf follow?

“You never speak much, but whatever you say… they always help me,” the lord continues. His mannerisms are concerning, as if he is resigned and ready to succumb to the flames. 

Sekiro stares at the man, Genichiro Ashina, the lord he’s served all his life. The man turns to him, their eyes meeting. His eyes are clear, no sign of the shadow of a demon that thrives in hatred. Sekiro had thought that he would hesitate, but now he sees no reason to. He wouldn’t think twice about following after the man.  


The flames surrounding them continue to consume the rest of the castle.

That day, after two decades since they overcame the rebellion and showed their might, the Ashina clan was wiped out.

\----+----

The Divine Heir has made his home in a village far away. Some of accompanying elites that escorted him remain by his side. They are in one of the villages that has become a place where refugees of the war have escaped to. Thankfully the village is far enough to remain untouched and unaffected by the war.

Here, Kuro can start over. No one but the elites know of his blood. He only wishes that the Wolf is there with him. The young man whistles to the wind, just as the shinobi had taught him. It has been a month since the news of Ashina’s fall has spread to the rest of the country. Allegedly, no one has survived.

The same elite who took him in after the Wolf escorted him calls the Divine Heir indoors. It is time for dinner. 

Kuro turns away and returns to the house. He thinks he hears the howl of a wolf, but it could just be the voice of the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading this work which was thought up on a whim! I thrive on lord and retainer relationships with a dash of rivalry.
> 
> I spam tweets and sometimes drawings of Genichiro/Wolf on my [twitter](http://twitter.com/user/kamikaze43v3r).


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